Current
Will be scarce from the 26th of December to the 2nd or 3rd of January
7 yrs ago
Family emergency came up. Will be off for a few days.
8 yrs ago
Oh, you know, the usual. Claim a throne, commit genocide, rid the Nine Realms of mewling quims and most importantly...mess with Thor. That always provide unparalleled entertainment.
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Bio
Do you think me a fool to shed light on my past, present and future so easily to strangers, you miserable Midgardians? Not even my brother - blundering oaf that he is and more importantly, not blood-related, thank the Allfather for that small mercy - knows everything I have done.
And these few words are all I shall grant to sate your thirst for the unknown. Now if you would excuse me, I have to destroy Jotunheim...again. Because some pests simply REFUSE to surrender and remain dead. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?
@Ink Blood I'm not the GM, but from the information posted in the OOC and the approved characters, I think this game doesn't revolve around characters being sucked into another world entirely. The characters are original residents of this world already. Born and raised here. It's just by touching the Mote, it transported them into another place that they might never have been to or even heard about. Or maybe they do know where they are. But either way, all our characters are just trying to find a way home, with their paths littered with adventures.
Don't quote me on that though. I would wait until the GM actually gives you a solid reply, but since they're not one right now, I suppose you can take a look at the characters tab while waiting for them to come on to get a better idea.
"If one doesn't live justly, one doesn't deserve to live."
Name: Arminel Blavier Age: 29 Allegiance: Church of the White (default allegiance) Position: Holy Knight Height: 185cm Weight: 74.6kg Hair Color: Platinum blonde Eye Color: Teal Gender: Male
Written Appearance: Arminel is of taller than average height but gifted with a good, lithely-muscled build, the product of intensive training in the use of his spear and stamina-building exercises. Like most of the people from his family, his hair is solid platinum blonde, eye-catching in the dark and shining silver under sunlight. His long, straight hair hangs freely, the ends sitting just above his ribs. His fringe is parted to the left, covering his thin, slanting eyebrows. His teal eyes are heavy-lidded, giving him an apathetic and bored look, never ceasing in their darting movements, as though there is a constant need to be alert. There is a light crease between his brows due to frowning too much. His thin, pale lips, straight nose and sharp jawline are directly inherited from his mother. The pale skin and light colouring is all his father, though.
Clothes are the least of Arminel's concerns. As long as they are a comfortable fit and are able to cover all they are designed to, he would gladly wear them. However, his daily outfits changes depending on his current situation. If he is on duty - which seems to be most of the time - he is clad in his silver and dark blue armour, complete save for the helm he rarely wears. If he has to travel across the land on his own or is off-duty, he prefers dark coloured tunic, trousers and brown leather boots, with a long cloak to complete the outfit.
Personality: Arminel is mild-mannered and a hard person to offend, waving off insults and jokes in an equally offhanded manner, as long as it is directed at him only, of course. Quick to banter with people he has been acquainted with before or anyone he is comfortable around, he is the sort of man that is easy to befriend, work alongside and open up to as long as he is not being his typical lazy self, which usually rubs some people the wrong way. He works best when sufficiently motivated and/or under pressure. If not, he is pretty lax and uninitiative until a superior gives him a command. Beneath the unmotivated and seemingly dead-to-the-world look, he is rather perceptive when he wants to be. His observational skills are mostly used to avoid having more work heaped on him and escape from superiors.
Arminel believes that the law set down by the Holy Knights and the White God is right, and rules are placed there for a reason. He hates it when people try to find a way around it, twisting it so they will come off as innocent when they are clearly not. He will not hesitate to use his authority to do what he thinks is right.
Background: The Blavier House, once wealthy merchants, has transitioned into a Family that produced Holy Knights every generation ever since Grandfather Ewald became the Head. Ewald had always been a pious man, loudly proclaiming to all who bothered to listen about the wonder that is the White God and the glory He stands for. Tales of Ewald's exploits and those of his sons and daughters - both living and dead - would be recounted around the dinner table now and then, painting the Church as righteous and any who oppose the White God's will as foul, tainted being in need of rescue. Redemption granted only by death. It came as no surprise that from Ewald's generation onwards, members of the House slowly became pious.
Born as the middle child and only son to the youngest of Ewald's sons, Arminel's path in life was already determined by his parents and grandfather even before he was a year old. His older sister, while sharp of mind, was too sickly to be considered for the position of heir. Arminel had no say in it, not that he ever tried arguing. It took too much effort and frankly wasn't worth it. In addition, he was trained since childhood the arts of being a Holy Knight. Scriptures, polearm-training, history of the Church, ramifications of evil...all these subjects were heaped upon him the moment he could read and write. There wasn't any other path he thought he could take should he refuse to be a Knight of the Church. He could teach, he suppose, become a priest instead of a soldier, but Arminel made a horrible preacher.
Like every Blavier offspring in the latest generation, the sixteen-year-old Arminel who walked in to join the ranks of the Holy Knights was a brainwashed youth, brought up filled with views that those serving the White God could do no wrong, and the Black God's followers were blights to be terminated. His perception of the world was split clearly into black and white. There were no greys in between. This unquestioning obedience was an asset to the Church, one they didn't hesitate to exploit. Arminel managed to make a friend in a younger teen within his unit named Allerion Zephra.
At one point in the year he turned twenty-one, an incident during the eradication of a village deemed corrupted nearly broke his unwavering faith in the Church and his carefully constructed view on what was right and wrong. Fortunately, circumstances worked in a way that he remained, although there exists a small crack in his firm belief - so small even he isn't aware of. It still remained a traumatising memory, a worry he divulged to Rion. Holy Knights weren't meant to have traumas, but he did. Did that make him a failure?
Over the years, Arminel was an observer as the relationship between Allerion and a woman by the name of Mana progressed. He came to view her as another sister when the two got married, but refused to listen to her stories about Holy Knight doing unjust deeds. To him, they were rumours spread by evildoers in an attempt to slander the Church of White and unless he witnessed it with his own eyes, it will stay that way. Knowing it wasn't his place to interfere in matters between a married couple, Arminel could only sit back and watch as doubt begin to cloud Rion's view of the Church. There were times he reached out to his friend with subtle warnings, reminding him of his duties as a Holy Knight and what the Church stood for.
Clearly, it wasn't enough. For when the unit returned from a mission, Mana laid dead and Rion became obsessed with investigating the case behind his wife's death. He tried to dissuade his friend, distracting him from grief and sorrowful memories. It worked for a while, then Rion's temper snapped. He was suspended, leaving Arminel within the unit and feeling rather useless. This sense of not being able to help made him recall events in the past and the crack he didn't know was there is slowly being clipped at. Sure, obedience was enforced amongst the Church, but only one occasion of talking back to a superior overturned years of devotion. A suspend? Why? Did Rion say something offensive enough to warrant such punishment?
Current Story: Rion had left, without even saying a goodbye. Arminel had to learn of what happened from his comrades-in-arms and by the time he went to hunt down the younger Knight, he was gone. He would have gotten on his horse and left right away if not for his superior enforcing the rule that a Knight should not indulge in selfish reasons. So here he stays, couped up in headquarters and waiting to be sent on a mission, anxious on behalf of his friend but unwilling to defy the Church. Thus the only hope he holds is that his path would cross the younger Knight's in the near future.
Weapon: Ansgar, Arminel's Arc, is a blood-red spear with vine-like carvings running along the shaft. The magic imbued into this weapon allows razor winds to be generated from the blade at will. These razor winds only cut in a straight line, and direction is determined from the angle of the blade. Power behind the razor wind is determined by force behind the swing or stab. For example, razor wind from a weak swing will only scratch the surface of a typical stone wall while a swing with all his power behind it can severe it in two.
Ability: Earth's Fury: Using where he is currently standing as the epicenter, Arminel can direct seismic waves through the ground, causing the earth at a radius of up to 100m to tremble (meaning a diameter of 200m). Intensity of the tremors increases gradually by the minute, with the first minute being only the ground shaking, the second minute the earth starts to break apart. By the third minute, cracks and minor faults have formed on the ground and the fourth minute is when deeper faults start to appear and parts of the land may crumble beneath one's feet. However, the drawbacks are Arminel cannot move from where he is standing least he will risk being harmed by the damage caused by the quake, and if he cease causing the tremors, when he wants to continue, he will need to start from the very beginning again. His ability unfortunately does not discriminate between allies and enemies.
Writing Prompt:
The thundering of hooves caused his heart to beat in tandem. All around him, his comrades-in-arms rode majestically upon their respective mounts, eyes ahead and faces stern. A grim atmosphere accompanied the fast-moving unit, a sense of urgency exuding from every being. Hands tightening around reins, brows furrowed, tempers on short fuse. Up ahead, the Great Holy Knight leading the unit was accompanied by two priests wielding elegant staffs of the purest white wood. So bright they seemed to radiate their own light, shining a path ahead of the riders.
Dusk was passing, and night soon fell. Beneath the stars and full moon, the Knights continued unerringly towards their destination. The seemingly endless green plain finally came to an end, the scape of a village breaking the flat horizon as they cleared the final hill.
Zentide Village, once a proud supporter of the Church of White. Those days were far gone. Now the once prosperous village became a shadow of its former glory. Houses in need of repair, thin, starving bodies shuffling aimlessly along the mud-caked streets. Its majestic wooden gates were rotten and broken, parts falling off and worms wriggling on its surface. It truly looked like a place infested and overran by evil.
At an unspoken command, the horses were reined in to a halt. A perfectly uniform square of armoured Knights stayed a few meters away from the closed gates, motionless save for the few head-tosses and shuffling of the mounts. Watching the Great Holy Knight and the priests flanking her, Arminel’s breath came out in low hisses, tension locking his spine straight. His head felt stuffy beneath his helm, Ansgar a heavier weight on his back. His palms were sweaty due to nerves, and he couldn’t help the small twitch when the gates creaked open to admit the three riders. A small group of villagers approached, but he was too far to hear the exchange, and positioned in a way lip-reading wasn’t an option.
“Easy, Blavier. Don’t let your nerves get to you.” Flynn’s husky voice whispered from his right, succeeding in dispersing some anxiety. “This’ll be a simple one. Just do what needs to be done, yeah?”
Managing a jerky nod in gratitude, Arminel’s gaze snapped to the returning party, noting the dark expression on his superior’s face. The priests on either side were openly sneering. So that’s how tonight will go. Although this wasn’t his first extermination mission ever since he joined the Church, this was his first time eradicating an entire village on the crime of harbouring wanted evildoers. From the looks of things, the villagers had either denied their actions or openly defied the Church. Despite the anxiety curling in the pits of his stomach, a rush of pity welled up. The poor ignorant masses. If only they would listen to reason. Now, they could only seek salvation through death. Beneath the visor of his helm, he closed his eyes and murmured a prayer of forgiveness and mercy.
A sharp gesture and the unit fanned out to completely surround the village, hands on respective weapons, ready to draw at moment’s notice. The horses, sensing their rider’s shift in emotions, began pawing the ground, nostrils flared in aggression. Calming his stallion down with a light click of the tongue and a soothing touch, Arminel kept track of the flurry of activities unfolding in the village behind the pathetic wooden fence. Torches were lit, crude arms passing from men to men, children secreted away and even a few women were amongst the growing crowd rallying to oppose the Knights.
“Today, you are truly blessed!” The older priest lifted his staff and boomed, words meant for the Church’s warriors. “Today, you fight for the White God himself! Today, you will assist in cleansing this earth of unholy heathens!” The man’s eyes were wild with fervour, orange light from torches flickering through his dark eyes. “Let the grass turn red with the blood of these heretics! They have sinned against Him and all He stands for! They have colluded with evil and revered in their depravity! Their mortal bodies must be punished and their souls redeemed! Strike down with His justice! Let none survive!”
Even before the last ringing word echoed in the night, the soldiers moved as one, horses leaping over or barrelling through the fence and gate, falling upon the poorly armed villagers like vengeful demons out for blood. Just like that chaos erupted. Arminel couldn’t quite remember the details of this night, but the memories that stuck were the rise and fall of his own spear, blade cleaving through and piercing body after body, the shock and hatred etched on every face melding into one. He was numb to it all, the words duty and heretics flashing repeatedly in his mind. They all deserved to die. There was no place for hesitation.
When he eventually stopped moving, he was still seated upon his horse, its white body stained with specks or crimson. Bodies littered the ground. Young and old. Trampled, impaled, decapitated. The stench of death was suffocating and seared his eyes, burned into his mind. Blood. He could smell it everywhere. On him, on the burning buildings around him, on his fellow Knights. He could even smell it wafting up from the mud and grass beneath his feet. The light rain pattering around them – searing, acidic, soul-sucking in its iciness – did nothing to help block the stench. If anything, the water droplets themselves carried a heavy scent of iron, as if the heavens itself was crying blood. He could smell the fire too. The acrid stench of wood slowly being reduced to ash, a hint of sulfur being carried in the smoke as houses, walls, people of Zentide burning all around. Their screams echoed into the night, creating a haunting chorus of dying wails. And still, the sickening squelch of weapons running through bones and muscles sounded, overlapping with the occasional clash of steel on steel.
“Another glorious day for the Church.” A light airy voice belonging to his unit’s commander came from behind him.
The Great Holy Knight nudged her still pristine mount forward, a satisfied smile on her face, eyes gleaming in triumph. Pushing his visor up, Arminel’s dead gaze locked onto hers for a second before dropping to the ground. A sight caught his attention and he dismounted, walking forward a few paces before dropping to one knee and brushed mud away with the hand not clutching his weapon. His fingers stilled abruptly as they encountered cold, dead flesh. His eyes prickled, a choking cry stuck in his throat.
“Glorious? You call this glorious?” He asked in a whisper, voice harsh and raspy even as he addressed his superior, gaze not moving from the dead infant laying on the ground, pinned beneath the corpses of its parents. “Is the slaughter of innocent children glorious?”
“Watch your tongue, Knight.” The woman’s voice whipped out, tone frosty. “Anyone associated with infidels must be erased. Children are no different. They become tainted the moment their parents embraced evil. We saved their souls from eternal damnation.”
Screwing his eyes shut, he bowed lower as though it would help block the myriad of emotions warring within him. Those words were a familiar one, preached in various scriptures and from the mouths of many believers. It was engraved within him since childhood. But witnessing it happen right before his eyes was different. So very different. Was what he did the right thing? He was putting an end to wickedness, wasn’t he? All he had experienced in his twenty-one years of life told him so but a small part of him still baulked at the idea of ending a child’s life. It hit too close to home, as though he personally held a blade towards his younger sibling’s neck.
His frame trembled at the thought. In his earlier frenzy, had he mindlessly skewered a child? Oh Lord above. He couldn’t remember!
Before his mind could descend more into chaos, a startled yelp and clang of a blade hitting the ground caused his head to snap up. What he saw surprised him. A young child standing over a fallen Knight, whose helm was off and weapon out of reach. The young man was spotting a nasty leg injury and Arminel was the closest Knight to the scene. The boy lifted a rusty shortsword with both hand, thin arms trembling from exertion but face contorted into an expression of pure loathing. Tears and snot ran down the gaunt face even as he gave a piercing shriek and stabbed the sword forward at the downed knight. The rusty blade never met its mark.
Arminel moved on instinct. The entire scenario took a scant few seconds to play out, and all he registered was someone was going to kill a brother.
Ansgar swung through the air in a horizontal motion, urgency causing Arminel to inject every bit of strength he could muster behind the movement. The boy’s head flew from his shoulder, remaining airborne for a second, then dropped back onto the earth with a dull smack.
“Now you see, Knight Blavier, the things wickedness can incite even an innocent child to do.” The Great Holy Knight’s voice was back, this time gentle and warm. Soothing, as though that of a caring mother educating her child the ways of the world. “It is our duty to save. A dark and strenuous task at times, especially when evil takes advantage of the goodness of your heart. But you must never forget…those that don’t live justly don’t deserve to live.”
As his superior moved away, a soft chuckle slipped pass his lips. Yes, how did he forget that creed? His duty as a Knight was to ensure the White God’s justice prevailed in this world. Everything and anything that opposed His will should be eliminated. Or else, it would be the Church that falls.
"To uphold justice and punish those who defy it. To protect Seireitei and annihilate those who seek to harm it. That is what the Gotei 13 is for! That is what being a Shinigami means!"
Name: Baili (she doesn't have a surname)
Gender: Female
Age: Visible age = 20, actual age = 144
Appearance: Baili has straight, dark brown hair that looks black when not under light which she keeps short in a messy bob-cut, the end of the longest strands falling just shy of the top of her shoulders. She takes after her mother in her mortal life regards to facial features and lithe body structure. She has high cheekbones and an oval face that ends in a sharp and pointed chin, framed by short side-fringes that are just a little longer than the rest of her hair. Her fairly-even-but-jagged forehead fringe is parted to the left and stops just above her slightly arched eyebrows, high enough not to get into her eyes when she does vigorous activities, or merely tilts her head down. She has a straight nose, thin, firm lips that are faintly pink and a strong jawline, making her more handsome than pretty. Her eyes are gunmetal-blue, staring piercingly out from under heavy-lidded eyelids, giving her a consistently bored look, as though she is always a minute away from dozing off.
She can add excellent flexibility and muscle control to her physical attributes. Due to her short height and legs (standing at 165cm (5'5") and weighing 50kg), Baili has gotten used to needing to keep pace with people with longer strides than her, thus, her steps are always brisk and purposeful. Not to mention, her posture is ramrod straight no matter if she sits or stands as she wishes to appear taller. Her height is something of a sore spot due to her family members all being a good few inches taller, their teasing not really helping her slight complex.
Personality: Baili has many different aspects to her personality. She is often serious, maintaining a bland expression which can turn into a sharp scowl if faced with something – or someone – she dislikes. Most of her insults make her sound like a grumpy old man, courtesy of Sabaku no Hogo-sha. As someone who does not like to be under the spotlight, she tries to appear bland and unassuming. Her common looks, unmodified Shinigami uniform allows her to fade into the sea of people around her and her polite, mild-mannered speech all contribute greatly in making her seem like an ordinary, boring person. The sort you meet by the handfuls in every squad compound.
But unknown to mere acquaintances, she has a humorous side, often displayed in the form of dry or sarcastic comments - all influence of her spirit, really! - especially when hanging around the few people she fully trusts – most of them her squadmates. People on that list also include her adopted family, a few childhood friends she hasn't seen in a while, and a select few members of other squads. Baili only allows herself to be carefree, loud and active when in a place she feels safe, such as her home and her squad compound. She is relatively caring in that while she doesn’t believe in sugar-coating the truth no matter how harsh it may be, she will break the news gently if that person is close to her, or is in visible distress, close to breaking down.
Baili is extremely practical, and strives to be a woman of sound moral principles, and would stand by them no matter what it cost her. She takes what the Gotei 13 stands for to heart, and will not hesitate to dole out justice if she believes is for the greater good. Staunchly loyal, firm, and unbending in her beliefs. She is a hard worker and can be stubborn and hard-headed when she believes she is right, and refuses to be convinced otherwise unless the opponent manages to bring sound logic into the argument. Though she has a sharp tongue and has no problems in standing up to others when she is in a temper, Baili is still the type of person who would give others a second chance when they had proven themselves worthy of it. She refrains from judging people by first impression alone, and usually reserves her opinion until she knows them better. While she might be a hard person to offend, she can't stand being belittled, and can get rather competitive, especially if that particular person proves rather challenging. Her temper is a slow simmering fire, not easily coerced into rearing up and retaliate, but the right trigger works like kerosene, making it explosive and abruptly, but dwindles down quickly. The right trigger? Threatening her friends. The older ones can take care of themselves, but the younger were her responsibilities.
Biography: Baili woke up in District 76, Sakahone, East Rukongai, where she discovered she had no memory of her past except for the name Baili, and the flashes of voices and images that surface whenever she drifts off to sleep. Dying at the age of 19 didn't exactly give her enough time to refine her social skills in terms of adult society, and she had never lived by herself besides during a trip in the holidays. However, her willingness to learn and work just for a place to sleep and food in her stomach did manage to bag her a job in a noodle shop as the cleaning lady. She did her best to keep her head down, not drawing attention to herself as thugs roamed the streets and gang fights were a common sight.
For a few years this worked as Baili slowly integrated herself into this place, and learned about the world she is now a part of from anyone willing to share. Due to her getting along with her boss - a little old woman with several adopted kids of her own - and the family, she was gradually accepted into the little circle, becoming another one of the old woman's unoffical adopted daughter. Her life was fairly uneventful and peaceful, something which Baili was rather grateful for. Dying and losing her memories of her past life didn't seem so bad after all. However, what she wasn't aware of was that she possessed reiatsu higher than the average soul in this district, and her inability to control it - and ignorance of it - would land her in trouble sooner or later.
The time came when she left to gather some ingredients for her adopted grandmother. A Hollow, attracted by the uncontrolled spiritual energy she was unconsciously emitting, pounced and managed to score a good hit on her back. Shocked, injured and bleeding, Baili desperately tried to scramble to her feet and crawl away, adrenaline helping numb the agonising throbbing and stinging from the wound. And large, bone-white fingers wrapped around her middle and she was lifted off the ground, Baili resigned herself to dying again. Except that didn't happen. There was a rush of wind and the sound of a sword leaving its scabbard. Then she was falling back to the ground. Landing on her side, she pushed herself upright despite her muscles screaming in protest just in time to see a person in black Shihakusho cleaving pieces of the monster with the sword in his hands. She watched the fight in awe, a resolve forming deep within her heart.
In a matter of minutes, the monster died and faded away with one last wail and the man - who introduced himself as a Shinigami of Squad Ten - was kind enough to heal her wounds and answer her questions. He even presented a piece of paper summarising Shinso Academy where one could train to be a Shinigami before departing. Hearing from a Shinigami's own mouth that she had enough reiatsu to be accepted into the Academy in a couple of years' time, Baili was ecstatic. She didn't like feeling so useless in the face of that Hollow, and a large part of her shudders at the thought of being devoured by it.
The day she was accepted as a student in the Academy was one of the best things in her life, both past and present. Although kenjutsu came naturally to her, being talentless at kido held her back from early graduation. Hence, she graduated at the usual rate, and did not even get more than a passing glimpse of her Zanpakuto spirit when she joined a squad as a complete newbie. It was through a year of meditation and more years of facing Hollows that she eventually managed to get in contact with Sabaku no Hogo-sha. Even if sometimes, she really wish she hadn't. The fox had the personality and voice of a grumpy old man and over the years, she found some of its attitude bleeding into her own. It didn't help that she could always hear him. Sure, she can block him out, but Baili has never felt comfortable blocking out her Zanpakuto. It always feels as though she is missing a limb or two.
With a little less than a century of experience as a Shinigami under her belt, Baili still strives to uphold all that a Shinigami stands for. Perhaps it is due to her first impression of one being her saviour, but she tends to think the higher-ups all have the good of Seireitei in mind, even if the methods they use to achieve an end is less than ideal.
Former Life: The eldest daughter to a Taiwanese father and Japanese mother running a Kenjutsu dojo in the small city of Nagaoka, she was born Okita Yuya, with Baili being her middle name. Her mortal life wasn't all that exciting, with a normal childhood and normal life. She was six when her little brother was born, and she devoted herself to caring for the cute little boy. In between school, learning the Way of the Sword, teaching her brother and hanging out with her friends, she liked to go on random adventures with her best friend Senya. The two girls would always be gone for a week or so during their holidays, returning with stories of interesting sights or events. However, it was on one of this trip that she lost her life. The ship the two women took was met with a violent storm, capsizing the small vessel and throwing the passengers overboard. In the struggle for the pile of lifevests, Baili was knocked unconscious. At least she wasn't awake to experience drowning to death.
Zanpakuto:
Mindscape: The Desert Zanpukuto Spirit: Sabaku no Hogo-sha - A grumpy male desert fox with sandy brown fur, purple markings all along his body and glowing yellow eyes. He is a sarcastic SOB even to his wielder who hates getting wet. He is normally content with snoozing away in his wielder's mindscape but will get riled up whenever a fight is on. He hates his wielder losing as in extension, he is technically losing too.
When sealed, the zanpukuto takes the form of a wakizashi as it compliments Baili's short stature and preference for speed over power or reach.
"Hisan to takashio, Hogo-sha!" (Scatter and surge, Hogo-sha!) Unsealed, Baili's shikai leaves her with no physical weapon as it dissolves her sword entirely into sand she can manipulate. She typically condenses half of it into a whip while the other half stick to her skin, providing a layer of protection via sand armour. This usually tricks her opponent into believing that her shikai takes the form of a whip constructed from sand which can reform when it breaks as long as Baili has enough reiatsu to do so. She has just figured out how to inject her reiatsu into her sand in order to protect it from getting wet but is still unable to use this skill effciently in a combat situation. More practice is needed. Baili has yet to be able to manipulate every grain of sand her sword becomes without a lot of concentration on her part. As she usually only divides the amount of sand two ways (as an armour and a whip), she still finds it difficult to have her sand go off in multiple directions at a time. Only through practice will she be able to improve.
Abilities: An expert of Zanjutsu and an adept at Hoho, she prefers to run circles around her opponent and strike any openings with her wakizashi, using speed and agility to her advantage in combat. She certainly has the stamina and endurance to drag any battles she has little hope of winning until backup arrives. Baili is best at close combat currently, with mid-range combat a close second due to the nature of her shikai. She has a higher than average ability in the field of Reiatsu Chikaku (Spiritual Pressure Perception) thanks to her zanpakuto spirit, which is enhanced when her shikai is released. Her resilience and refusal to give up is perhaps one of her greatest strength, allowing her to endure more than she would be able to.
Weaknesses: Her hakuda skills are average, focused more on defensive than offensive due to lacking power and strength behind her hits and her kido is abysmal. Her reiatsu control is not atrocious, seeing as she can manipulate her shikai, but she just can't seem to grasp the basics of shaping her spells before firing them off. Most of the time, they blow up in her face and when they don't, it is either so weak it disperses before hitting the target or completely off target. Needless to say, she sucks at long-ranged combat. One of her biggest weakness is over-analysing her opponent in combat. She tends to overestimate them and underestimate herself, leaving her defending most of the time rather than keeping up constant attacks.
Theme: Finding one
Other: Although her Zanpakuto's element is sand, her reiatsu effect is not an elemental one. Rather, if she releases all her spiritual pressure, all the person standing next to her would be able to feel is as though sandpaper is being rubbed on their skin since she doesn't have that much presence. If she has it under control, nothing will happen. She always end up curling into a ball when sleeping and has a habit of bearing her teeth when frustrated or extremely irritated.
@Artymis I've edited her age to 144, meaning she's been a Shinigami for less than a century. Also edited her abilities so she's a Zanjutsu expert and a Hoho adept.
"To uphold justice and punish those who defy it. To protect Seireitei and annihilate those who seek to harm it. That is what the Gotei 13 is for! That is what being a Shinigami means!"
Name: Baili (she doesn't have a surname)
Gender: Female
Age: Visible age = 20, actual age = 144
Appearance: Baili has straight, dark brown hair that looks black when not under light which she keeps short in a messy bob-cut, the end of the longest strands falling just shy of the top of her shoulders. She takes after her mother in her mortal life regards to facial features and lithe body structure. She has high cheekbones and an oval face that ends in a sharp and pointed chin, framed by short side-fringes that are just a little longer than the rest of her hair. Her fairly-even-but-jagged forehead fringe is parted to the left and stops just above her slightly arched eyebrows, high enough not to get into her eyes when she does vigorous activities, or merely tilts her head down. She has a straight nose, thin, firm lips that are faintly pink and a strong jawline, making her more handsome than pretty. Her eyes are gunmetal-blue, staring piercingly out from under heavy-lidded eyelids, giving her a consistently bored look, as though she is always a minute away from dozing off.
She can add excellent flexibility and muscle control to her physical attributes. Due to her short height and legs (standing at 165cm (5'5") and weighing 50kg), Baili has gotten used to needing to keep pace with people with longer strides than her, thus, her steps are always brisk and purposeful. Not to mention, her posture is ramrod straight no matter if she sits or stands as she wishes to appear taller. Her height is something of a sore spot due to her family members all being a good few inches taller, their teasing not really helping her slight complex.
Personality: Baili has many different aspects to her personality. She is often serious, maintaining a bland expression which can turn into a sharp scowl if faced with something – or someone – she dislikes. Most of her insults make her sound like a grumpy old man, courtesy of Sabaku no Hogo-sha. As someone who does not like to be under the spotlight, she tries to appear bland and unassuming. Her common looks, unmodified Shinigami uniform allows her to fade into the sea of people around her and her polite, mild-mannered speech all contribute greatly in making her seem like an ordinary, boring person. The sort you meet by the handfuls in every squad compound.
But unknown to mere acquaintances, she has a humorous side, often displayed in the form of dry or sarcastic comments - all influence of her spirit, really! - especially when hanging around the few people she fully trusts – most of them her squadmates. People on that list also include her adopted family, a few childhood friends she hasn't seen in a while, and a select few members of other squads. Baili only allows herself to be carefree, loud and active when in a place she feels safe, such as her home and her squad compound. She is relatively caring in that while she doesn’t believe in sugar-coating the truth no matter how harsh it may be, she will break the news gently if that person is close to her, or is in visible distress, close to breaking down.
Baili is extremely practical, and strives to be a woman of sound moral principles, and would stand by them no matter what it cost her. She takes what the Gotei 13 stands for to heart, and will not hesitate to dole out justice if she believes is for the greater good. Staunchly loyal, firm, and unbending in her beliefs. She is a hard worker and can be stubborn and hard-headed when she believes she is right, and refuses to be convinced otherwise unless the opponent manages to bring sound logic into the argument. Though she has a sharp tongue and has no problems in standing up to others when she is in a temper, Baili is still the type of person who would give others a second chance when they had proven themselves worthy of it. She refrains from judging people by first impression alone, and usually reserves her opinion until she knows them better. While she might be a hard person to offend, she can't stand being belittled, and can get rather competitive, especially if that particular person proves rather challenging. Her temper is a slow simmering fire, not easily coerced into rearing up and retaliate, but the right trigger works like kerosene, making it explosive and abruptly, but dwindles down quickly. The right trigger? Threatening her friends. The older ones can take care of themselves, but the younger were her responsibilities.
Biography: Baili woke up in District 76, Sakahone, East Rukongai, where she discovered she had no memory of her past except for the name Baili, and the flashes of voices and images that surface whenever she drifts off to sleep. Dying at the age of 19 didn't exactly give her enough time to refine her social skills in terms of adult society, and she had never lived by herself besides during a trip in the holidays. However, her willingness to learn and work just for a place to sleep and food in her stomach did manage to bag her a job in a noodle shop as the cleaning lady. She did her best to keep her head down, not drawing attention to herself as thugs roamed the streets and gang fights were a common sight.
For a few years this worked as Baili slowly integrated herself into this place, and learned about the world she is now a part of from anyone willing to share. Due to her getting along with her boss - a little old woman with several adopted kids of her own - and the family, she was gradually accepted into the little circle, becoming another one of the old woman's unoffical adopted daughter. Her life was fairly uneventful and peaceful, something which Baili was rather grateful for. Dying and losing her memories of her past life didn't seem so bad after all. However, what she wasn't aware of was that she possessed reiatsu higher than the average soul in this district, and her inability to control it - and ignorance of it - would land her in trouble sooner or later.
The time came when she left to gather some ingredients for her adopted grandmother. A Hollow, attracted by the uncontrolled spiritual energy she was unconsciously emitting, pounced and managed to score a good hit on her back. Shocked, injured and bleeding, Baili desperately tried to scramble to her feet and crawl away, adrenaline helping numb the agonising throbbing and stinging from the wound. And large, bone-white fingers wrapped around her middle and she was lifted off the ground, Baili resigned herself to dying again. Except that didn't happen. There was a rush of wind and the sound of a sword leaving its scabbard. Then she was falling back to the ground. Landing on her side, she pushed herself upright despite her muscles screaming in protest just in time to see a person in black Shihakusho cleaving pieces of the monster with the sword in his hands. She watched the fight in awe, a resolve forming deep within her heart.
In a matter of minutes, the monster died and faded away with one last wail and the man - who introduced himself as a Shinigami of Squad Ten - was kind enough to heal her wounds and answer her questions. He even presented a piece of paper summarising Shinso Academy where one could train to be a Shinigami before departing. Hearing from a Shinigami's own mouth that she had enough reiatsu to be accepted into the Academy in a couple of years' time, Baili was ecstatic. She didn't like feeling so useless in the face of that Hollow, and a large part of her shudders at the thought of being devoured by it.
The day she was accepted as a student in the Academy was one of the best things in her life, both past and present. Although kenjutsu came naturally to her, being talentless at kido held her back from early graduation. Hence, she graduated at the usual rate, and did not even get more than a passing glimpse of her Zanpakuto spirit when she joined a squad as a complete newbie. It was through a year of meditation and more years of facing Hollows that she eventually managed to get in contact with Sabaku no Hogo-sha. Even if sometimes, she really wish she hadn't. The fox had the personality and voice of a grumpy old man and over the years, she found some of its attitude bleeding into her own. It didn't help that she could always hear him. Sure, she can block him out, but Baili has never felt comfortable blocking out her Zanpakuto. It always feels as though she is missing a limb or two.
With a little less than a century of experience as a Shinigami under her belt, Baili still strives to uphold all that a Shinigami stands for. Perhaps it is due to her first impression of one being her saviour, but she tends to think the higher-ups all have the good of Seireitei in mind, even if the methods they use to achieve an end is less than ideal.
Former Life: The eldest daughter to a Taiwanese father and Japanese mother running a Kenjutsu dojo in the small city of Nagaoka, she was born Okita Yuya, with Baili being her middle name. Her mortal life wasn't all that exciting, with a normal childhood and normal life. She was six when her little brother was born, and she devoted herself to caring for the cute little boy. In between school, learning the Way of the Sword, teaching her brother and hanging out with her friends, she liked to go on random adventures with her best friend Senya. The two girls would always be gone for a week or so during their holidays, returning with stories of interesting sights or events. However, it was on one of this trip that she lost her life. The ship the two women took was met with a violent storm, capsizing the small vessel and throwing the passengers overboard. In the struggle for the pile of lifevests, Baili was knocked unconscious. At least she wasn't awake to experience drowning to death.
Zanpakuto:
Zanpukuto Spirit: Sabaku no Hogo-sha - A grumpy male desert fox with sandy brown fur, purple markings all along his body and glowing yellow eyes. He is a sarcastic SOB even to his wielder who hates getting wet. He is normally content with snoozing away in his wielder's mindscape but will get riled up whenever a fight is on. He hates his wielder losing as in extension, he is technically losing too.
When sealed, the zanpukuto takes the form of a wakizashi as it compliments Baili's short stature and preference for speed over power or reach.
"Hisan to takashio, Hogo-sha!" (Scatter and surge, Hogo-sha!) Unsealed, Baili's shikai leaves her with no physical weapon as it dissolves her sword entirely into sand she can manipulate. She typically condenses half of it into a whip while the other half stick to her skin, providing a layer of protection via sand armour. This usually tricks her opponent into believing that her shikai takes the form of a whip constructed from sand which can reform when it breaks as long as Baili has enough reiatsu to do so. She has just figured out how to inject her reiatsu into her sand in order to protect it from getting wet but is still unable to use this skill effciently in a combat situation. More practice is needed. Baili has yet to be able to manipulate every grain of sand her sword becomes without a lot of concentration on her part. As she usually only divides the amount of sand two ways (as an armour and a whip), she still finds it difficult to have her sand go off in multiple directions at a time. Only through practice will she be able to improve.
Abilities: An expert of Zanjutsu and an adept at Hoho, she prefers to run circles around her opponent and strike any openings with her wakizashi, using speed and agility to her advantage in combat. She certainly has the stamina and endurance to drag any battles she has little hope of winning until backup arrives. Baili is best at close combat currently, with mid-range combat a close second due to the nature of her shikai. She has a higher than average ability in the field of Reiatsu Chikaku (Spiritual Pressure Perception) thanks to her zanpakuto spirit, which is enhanced when her shikai is released. Her resilience and refusal to give up is perhaps one of her greatest strength, allowing her to endure more than she would be able to.
Weaknesses: Her hakuda skills are average, focused more on defensive than offensive due to lacking power and strength behind her hits and her kido is abysmal. Her reiatsu control is not atrocious, seeing as she can manipulate her shikai, but she just can't seem to grasp the basics of shaping her spells before firing them off. Most of the time, they blow up in her face and when they don't, it is either so weak it disperses before hitting the target or completely off target. Needless to say, she sucks at long-ranged combat. One of her biggest weakness is over-analysing her opponent in combat. She tends to overestimate them and underestimate herself, leaving her defending most of the time rather than keeping up constant attacks.
Theme: Finding one
Other: Although her Zanpakuto's element is sand, her reiatsu effect is not an elemental one. Rather, if she releases all her spiritual pressure, all the person standing next to her would be able to feel is as though sandpaper is being rubbed on their skin since she doesn't have that much presence. If she has it under control, nothing will happen. She always end up curling into a ball when sleeping and has a habit of bearing her teeth when frustrated or extremely irritated.
@Kuroakuma I apologise, but I will have to bow out of this. A few things just started so I wouldn't be able to fit anymore RPs into my schedule. Sorry and best wishes for this RP ^-^
@Holy Soldier Total area can go up to 200m radius, so in diameter, it would be 400m. Would that be too large an area? I don't mind tuning it down to a radius of 100m, meaning 200m in diameter if it is. Noted and thanks. And I was under the impression all the Sins were taken, which was why I went with a HK. I was actually nearly done with the CS when I saw the Pride slot became open again ^-^""
"If one doesn't live justly, one doesn't deserve to live."
Name: Arminel Blavier Age: 29 Allegiance: Church of the White (default allegiance) Position: Holy Knight Height: 185cm Weight: 74.6kg Hair Color: Platinum blonde Eye Color: Teal Gender: Male
Written Appearance: Arminel is of taller than average height but gifted with a good, lithely-muscled build, the product of intensive training in the use of his spear and stamina-building exercises. Like most of the people from his family, his hair is solid platinum blonde, eye-catching in the dark and shining silver under sunlight. His long, straight hair hangs freely, the ends sitting just above his ribs. His fringe is parted to the left, covering his thin, slanting eyebrows. His teal eyes are heavy-lidded, giving him an apathetic and bored look, never ceasing in their darting movements, as though there is a constant need to be alert. There is a light crease between his brows due to frowning too much. His thin, pale lips, straight nose and sharp jawline are directly inherited from his mother. The pale skin and light colouring is all his father, though.
Clothes are the least of Arminel's concerns. As long as they are a comfortable fit and are able to cover all they are designed to, he would gladly wear them. However, his daily outfits changes depending on his current situation. If he is on duty - which seems to be most of the time - he is clad in his silver and dark blue armour, complete save for the helm he rarely wears. If he has to travel across the land on his own or is off-duty, he prefers dark coloured tunic, trousers and brown leather boots, with a long cloak to complete the outfit.
Personality: Arminel is mild-mannered and a hard person to offend, waving off insults and jokes in an equally offhanded manner, as long as it is directed at him only, of course. Quick to banter with people he has been acquainted with before or anyone he is comfortable around, he is the sort of man that is easy to befriend, work alongside and open up to as long as he is not being his typical lazy self, which usually rubs some people the wrong way. He works best when sufficiently motivated and/or under pressure. If not, he is pretty lax and uninitiative until a superior gives him a command. Beneath the unmotivated and seemingly dead-to-the-world look, he is rather perceptive when he wants to be. His observational skills are mostly used to avoid having more work heaped on him and escape from superiors.
Arminel believes that the law set down by the Holy Knights and the White God is right, and rules are placed there for a reason. He hates it when people try to find a way around it, twisting it so they will come off as innocent when they are clearly not. He will not hesitate to use his authority to do what he thinks is right.
Background: The Blavier House, once wealthy merchants, has transitioned into a Family that produced Holy Knights every generation ever since Grandfather Ewald became the Head. Ewald had always been a pious man, loudly proclaiming to all who bothered to listen about the wonder that is the White God and the glory He stands for. Tales of Ewald's exploits and those of his sons and daughters - both living and dead - would be recounted around the dinner table now and then, painting the Church as righteous and any who oppose the White God's will as foul, tainted being in need of rescue. Redemption granted only by death. It came as no surprise that from Ewald's generation onwards, members of the House slowly became pious.
Born as the middle child and only son to the youngest of Ewald's sons, Arminel's path in life was already determined by his parents and grandfather even before he was a year old. His older sister, while sharp of mind, was too sickly to be considered for the position of heir. Arminel had no say in it, not that he ever tried arguing. It took too much effort and frankly wasn't worth it. In addition, he was trained since childhood the arts of being a Holy Knight. Scriptures, polearm-training, history of the Church, ramifications of evil...all these subjects were heaped upon him the moment he could read and write. There wasn't any other path he thought he could take should he refuse to be a Knight of the Church. He could teach, he suppose, become a priest instead of a soldier, but Arminel made a horrible preacher.
Like every Blavier offspring in the latest generation, the sixteen-year-old Arminel who walked in to join the ranks of the Holy Knights was a brainwashed youth, brought up filled with views that those serving the White God could do no wrong, and the Black God's followers were blights to be terminated. His perception of the world was split clearly into black and white. There were no greys in between. This unquestioning obedience was an asset to the Church, one they didn't hesitate to exploit. Arminel managed to make a friend in a younger teen within his unit named Allerion Zephra.
At one point in the year he turned twenty-one, an incident during the eradication of a village deemed corrupted nearly broke his unwavering faith in the Church and his carefully constructed view on what was right and wrong. Fortunately, circumstances worked in a way that he remained, although there exists a small crack in his firm belief - so small even he isn't aware of. It still remained a traumatising memory, a worry he divulged to Rion. Holy Knights weren't meant to have traumas, but he did. Did that make him a failure?
Over the years, Arminel was an observer as the relationship between Allerion and a woman by the name of Mana progressed. He came to view her as another sister when the two got married, but refused to listen to her stories about Holy Knight doing unjust deeds. To him, they were rumours spread by evildoers in an attempt to slander the Church of White and unless he witnessed it with his own eyes, it will stay that way. Knowing it wasn't his place to interfere in matters between a married couple, Arminel could only sit back and watch as doubt begin to cloud Rion's view of the Church. There were times he reached out to his friend with subtle warnings, reminding him of his duties as a Holy Knight and what the Church stood for.
Clearly, it wasn't enough. For when the unit returned from a mission, Mana laid dead and Rion became obsessed with investigating the case behind his wife's death. He tried to dissuade his friend, distracting him from grief and sorrowful memories. It worked for a while, then Rion's temper snapped. He was suspended, leaving Arminel within the unit and feeling rather useless. This sense of not being able to help made him recall events in the past and the crack he didn't know was there is slowly being clipped at. Sure, obedience was enforced amongst the Church, but only one occasion of talking back to a superior overturned years of devotion. A suspend? Why? Did Rion say something offensive enough to warrant such punishment?
Current Story: Rion had left, without even saying a goodbye. Arminel had to learn of what happened from his comrades-in-arms and by the time he went to hunt down the younger Knight, he was gone. He would have gotten on his horse and left right away if not for his superior enforcing the rule that a Knight should not indulge in selfish reasons. So here he stays, couped up in headquarters and waiting to be sent on a mission, anxious on behalf of his friend but unwilling to defy the Church. Thus the only hope he holds is that his path would cross the younger Knight's in the near future.
Weapon: Ansgar, Arminel's Arc, is a blood-red spear with vine-like carvings running along the shaft. The magic imbued into this weapon allows razor winds to be generated from the blade at will. These razor winds only cut in a straight line, and direction is determined from the angle of the blade. Power behind the razor wind is determined by force behind the swing or stab. For example, razor wind from a weak swing will only scratch the surface of a typical stone wall while a swing with all his power behind it can severe it in two.
Ability: Earth's Fury: Using where he is currently standing as the epicenter, Arminel can direct seismic waves through the ground, causing the earth at a radius of up to 100m to tremble (meaning a diameter of 200m). Intensity of the tremors increases gradually by the minute, with the first minute being only the ground shaking, the second minute the earth starts to break apart. By the third minute, cracks and minor faults have formed on the ground and the fourth minute is when deeper faults start to appear and parts of the land may crumble beneath one's feet. However, the drawbacks are Arminel cannot move from where he is standing least he will risk being harmed by the damage caused by the quake, and if he cease causing the tremors, when he wants to continue, he will need to start from the very beginning again. His ability unfortunately does not discriminate between allies and enemies.
Writing Prompt:
The thundering of hooves caused his heart to beat in tandem. All around him, his comrades-in-arms rode majestically upon their respective mounts, eyes ahead and faces stern. A grim atmosphere accompanied the fast-moving unit, a sense of urgency exuding from every being. Hands tightening around reins, brows furrowed, tempers on short fuse. Up ahead, the Great Holy Knight leading the unit was accompanied by two priests wielding elegant staffs of the purest white wood. So bright they seemed to radiate their own light, shining a path ahead of the riders.
Dusk was passing, and night soon fell. Beneath the stars and full moon, the Knights continued unerringly towards their destination. The seemingly endless green plain finally came to an end, the scape of a village breaking the flat horizon as they cleared the final hill.
Zentide Village, once a proud supporter of the Church of White. Those days were far gone. Now the once prosperous village became a shadow of its former glory. Houses in need of repair, thin, starving bodies shuffling aimlessly along the mud-caked streets. Its majestic wooden gates were rotten and broken, parts falling off and worms wriggling on its surface. It truly looked like a place infested and overran by evil.
At an unspoken command, the horses were reined in to a halt. A perfectly uniform square of armoured Knights stayed a few meters away from the closed gates, motionless save for the few head-tosses and shuffling of the mounts. Watching the Great Holy Knight and the priests flanking her, Arminel’s breath came out in low hisses, tension locking his spine straight. His head felt stuffy beneath his helm, Ansgar a heavier weight on his back. His palms were sweaty due to nerves, and he couldn’t help the small twitch when the gates creaked open to admit the three riders. A small group of villagers approached, but he was too far to hear the exchange, and positioned in a way lip-reading wasn’t an option.
“Easy, Blavier. Don’t let your nerves get to you.” Flynn’s husky voice whispered from his right, succeeding in dispersing some anxiety. “This’ll be a simple one. Just do what needs to be done, yeah?”
Managing a jerky nod in gratitude, Arminel’s gaze snapped to the returning party, noting the dark expression on his superior’s face. The priests on either side were openly sneering. So that’s how tonight will go. Although this wasn’t his first extermination mission ever since he joined the Church, this was his first time eradicating an entire village on the crime of harbouring wanted evildoers. From the looks of things, the villagers had either denied their actions or openly defied the Church. Despite the anxiety curling in the pits of his stomach, a rush of pity welled up. The poor ignorant masses. If only they would listen to reason. Now, they could only seek salvation through death. Beneath the visor of his helm, he closed his eyes and murmured a prayer of forgiveness and mercy.
A sharp gesture and the unit fanned out to completely surround the village, hands on respective weapons, ready to draw at moment’s notice. The horses, sensing their rider’s shift in emotions, began pawing the ground, nostrils flared in aggression. Calming his stallion down with a light click of the tongue and a soothing touch, Arminel kept track of the flurry of activities unfolding in the village behind the pathetic wooden fence. Torches were lit, crude arms passing from men to men, children secreted away and even a few women were amongst the growing crowd rallying to oppose the Knights.
“Today, you are truly blessed!” The older priest lifted his staff and boomed, words meant for the Church’s warriors. “Today, you fight for the White God himself! Today, you will assist in cleansing this earth of unholy heathens!” The man’s eyes were wild with fervour, orange light from torches flickering through his dark eyes. “Let the grass turn red with the blood of these heretics! They have sinned against Him and all He stands for! They have colluded with evil and revered in their depravity! Their mortal bodies must be punished and their souls redeemed! Strike down with His justice! Let none survive!”
Even before the last ringing word echoed in the night, the soldiers moved as one, horses leaping over or barrelling through the fence and gate, falling upon the poorly armed villagers like vengeful demons out for blood. Just like that chaos erupted. Arminel couldn’t quite remember the details of this night, but the memories that stuck were the rise and fall of his own spear, blade cleaving through and piercing body after body, the shock and hatred etched on every face melding into one. He was numb to it all, the words duty and heretics flashing repeatedly in his mind. They all deserved to die. There was no place for hesitation.
When he eventually stopped moving, he was still seated upon his horse, its white body stained with specks or crimson. Bodies littered the ground. Young and old. Trampled, impaled, decapitated. The stench of death was suffocating and seared his eyes, burned into his mind. Blood. He could smell it everywhere. On him, on the burning buildings around him, on his fellow Knights. He could even smell it wafting up from the mud and grass beneath his feet. The light rain pattering around them – searing, acidic, soul-sucking in its iciness – did nothing to help block the stench. If anything, the water droplets themselves carried a heavy scent of iron, as if the heavens itself was crying blood. He could smell the fire too. The acrid stench of wood slowly being reduced to ash, a hint of sulfur being carried in the smoke as houses, walls, people of Zentide burning all around. Their screams echoed into the night, creating a haunting chorus of dying wails. And still, the sickening squelch of weapons running through bones and muscles sounded, overlapping with the occasional clash of steel on steel.
“Another glorious day for the Church.” A light airy voice belonging to his unit’s commander came from behind him.
The Great Holy Knight nudged her still pristine mount forward, a satisfied smile on her face, eyes gleaming in triumph. Pushing his visor up, Arminel’s dead gaze locked onto hers for a second before dropping to the ground. A sight caught his attention and he dismounted, walking forward a few paces before dropping to one knee and brushed mud away with the hand not clutching his weapon. His fingers stilled abruptly as they encountered cold, dead flesh. His eyes prickled, a choking cry stuck in his throat.
“Glorious? You call this glorious?” He asked in a whisper, voice harsh and raspy even as he addressed his superior, gaze not moving from the dead infant laying on the ground, pinned beneath the corpses of its parents. “Is the slaughter of innocent children glorious?”
“Watch your tongue, Knight.” The woman’s voice whipped out, tone frosty. “Anyone associated with infidels must be erased. Children are no different. They become tainted the moment their parents embraced evil. We saved their souls from eternal damnation.”
Screwing his eyes shut, he bowed lower as though it would help block the myriad of emotions warring within him. Those words were a familiar one, preached in various scriptures and from the mouths of many believers. It was engraved within him since childhood. But witnessing it happen right before his eyes was different. So very different. Was what he did the right thing? He was putting an end to wickedness, wasn’t he? All he had experienced in his twenty-one years of life told him so but a small part of him still baulked at the idea of ending a child’s life. It hit too close to home, as though he personally held a blade towards his younger sibling’s neck.
His frame trembled at the thought. In his earlier frenzy, had he mindlessly skewered a child? Oh Lord above. He couldn’t remember!
Before his mind could descend more into chaos, a startled yelp and clang of a blade hitting the ground caused his head to snap up. What he saw surprised him. A young child standing over a fallen Knight, whose helm was off and weapon out of reach. The young man was spotting a nasty leg injury and Arminel was the closest Knight to the scene. The boy lifted a rusty shortsword with both hand, thin arms trembling from exertion but face contorted into an expression of pure loathing. Tears and snot ran down the gaunt face even as he gave a piercing shriek and stabbed the sword forward at the downed knight. The rusty blade never met its mark.
Arminel moved on instinct. The entire scenario took a scant few seconds to play out, and all he registered was someone was going to kill a brother.
Ansgar swung through the air in a horizontal motion, urgency causing Arminel to inject every bit of strength he could muster behind the movement. The boy’s head flew from his shoulder, remaining airborne for a second, then dropped back onto the earth with a dull smack.
“Now you see, Knight Blavier, the things wickedness can incite even an innocent child to do.” The Great Holy Knight’s voice was back, this time gentle and warm. Soothing, as though that of a caring mother educating her child the ways of the world. “It is our duty to save. A dark and strenuous task at times, especially when evil takes advantage of the goodness of your heart. But you must never forget…those that don’t live justly don’t deserve to live.”
As his superior moved away, a soft chuckle slipped pass his lips. Yes, how did he forget that creed? His duty as a Knight was to ensure the White God’s justice prevailed in this world. Everything and anything that opposed His will should be eliminated. Or else, it would be the Church that falls.
Do you think me a fool to shed light on my past, present and future so easily to strangers, you miserable Midgardians? Not even my brother - blundering oaf that he is and more importantly, [u]not blood-related[/u], thank the Allfather for that small mercy - knows everything I have done.
And these few words are all I shall grant to sate your thirst for the unknown. Now if you would excuse me, I have to destroy Jotunheim...again. Because some pests simply REFUSE to surrender and remain dead. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Do you think me a fool to shed light on my past, present and future so easily to strangers, you miserable Midgardians? Not even my brother - blundering oaf that he is and more importantly, <span class="bb-u">not blood-related</span>, thank the Allfather for that small mercy - knows everything I have done. <br><br>And these few words are all I shall grant to sate your thirst for the unknown. Now if you would excuse me, I have to destroy Jotunheim...again. Because some pests simply REFUSE to surrender and remain dead. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?</div>
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